The Witch Of Agnesi Part 2

"It's not his fault. He's not the first team captain in a dozen years to come home without a trophy."

Bonnie took Stephanie in her arms. "East Plains will survive." To Edmund, she said, "Go see what's keeping Peyton."

Edmund left looking relieved to get away from all this womanly grief.

Neither of the girls appeared eager to speak, so Bonnie invited them to sit quietly with her on the back b.u.mper of the van. All around them, busses and vans full of teenagers sped away into the night.

When the last bus left, Bonnie checked her watch. "What's keeping those boys?"

As if in answer to her question, Edmund slammed through the door of the school. Standing in the school's floodlights, he yelled, "I can't find him anywhere. Peyton's gone."

CHAPTER 2.

BONNIE LED A HYSTERICAL WENDY NEWLIN into the main office. The red-faced woman sucked air in ragged gasps.

Don't let her pa.s.s out, Bonnie prayed.

"Get me a paper bag, maybe yea big." She used her hands to show Princ.i.p.al Jeffers of the orange bow tie the approximate size of a lunch sack. When the man hesitated, she hurried him off.

She pulled a swivel chair from behind a large gray-steel desk and patted the upholstered seat. "Sit here for a moment. Put your head between your knees."

Gasping and shaking, Wendy did as she was told.

"I'll be right back." Bonnie stepped out into the hall.

Stephanie, Ali, and Edmund stood leaning against a wall. They broke off whispering when she approached. Tears glistened on Stephanie Templeton's cheeks.

Bonnie opened her f.a.n.n.y pack, extracted her cell phone, and tossed it to Edmund. "Call your parents, all of you. This could take awhile. Have them come get you."

Stephanie shook her head. "This is all my fault."

Bonnie held up an admonishing hand. "Cut that out. Take Edmund and Ali to the auditorium and make those calls. Can I count on you?"

Stephanie nodded.

"Good girl."

When Bonnie returned to the office, Wendy had her head between her knees. She'd removed her sweater and sat there in a white sleeveless sh.e.l.l. On each of her arms a string of purple bruises stood out like grapes against pale flesh.

The hair on the back of Bonnie's neck bristled. Her jaw tightened.

In the doorway, Jeffers held up a small paper sack. "Will this do?"

She forced herself to smile and took the sack. "Do you have somewhere Missus Newlin can lie down?"

"I'll be fine." Wendy raised her head. "I need to find my boy." She tried to stand and sat down hard.

Jeffers strode past Bonnie to a darkened room and flicked on the light. "Nurse's cubby-the back of my a.s.sistant princ.i.p.al's office." He helped Wendy to her feet.

The woman protested, but let Jeffers guide her to a cot behind a mobile canvas screen.

Bonnie handed Wendy the bag. "Just a dozen breaths until your breathing settles."

"I don't think-"

"Humor me."

Wendy sighed but clamped the bag's mouth over her own. Eyes closed, she inflated and deflated the bag like a bellows.

Bonnie signaled Jeffers to accompany her to the door. Once beyond it she whispered, "We need to call the police."

"They may not come. We're talking about a boy who ran away less than half an hour ago. My custodians are still searching."

"We're talking about a missing child, and I'm not so certain he ran away. Remember the red truck you wouldn't let me tell you about?" She gave him an abbreviated version of Peyton's altercation with Jesse Poole.

"And you saw this truck near here?"

"One of my players did."

Jeffers worried a hangnail on his thumb. "I'll call."

As he turned toward the phone on the secretary's gray-steel desk, Bonnie took his elbow. "If you get any kind of runaround, ask for Sergeant Valsecchi. Mention my name. He's a former student of mine."

"Missus P?" Holding the cell phone, Stephanie came into the office. "We've all called."

"That's great, sweetie." She took the phone. "Listen, I've got to see to Peyton's mom. You guys going to be okay?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "We're not little kids, Missus P."

Oh good, give me a double scoop of att.i.tude. "Of course you're not." She left the girl and returned to the back room. "Of course you're not." She left the girl and returned to the back room.

Mrs. Newlin was sitting up. She had the bag in her lap smoothing out wrinkles. "Peyton's run away before."

"He's probably just feeling guilty about the compet.i.tion." Bonnie shut the door behind her but stayed near it, not wanting to invade the woman's s.p.a.ce. "He'll come back when he sorts it out."

"His running away had nothing to do with Knowledge Bowl. It's been building between him and my husband, for weeks-the fights, the getting in trouble." She rubbed her naked arms and winced when her fingers pa.s.sed over the bruises. Her face reddened. "My husband's not the easiest man in the world to live with."

Bonnie's jaw tightened again. She nodded toward the purple splotches. "Those look new."

Mrs. Newlin c.o.c.ked her head and eyed Bonnie suspiciously.

I don't blame you, honey, Bonnie thought. You've got no reason to confide in me. You've got no reason to confide in me.

"Ralph was waiting when Peyton and I returned from school. We weren't in the house five minutes before he started in."

"Had he been drinking?"

The woman shook her head, red hair falling across her face. She pushed it back with a shaky hand. "Colonel Ralph Newlin doesn't drink."

Her mouth twitched, as if she was forcing down a nervous laugh. "He doesn't relinquish control of anything-his faculties or his family."

"Did he hit you?"

Wendy hesitated then nodded. A knock on the door made her jump.

Jeffers poked in his head. "I called the police."

Wendy crushed the bag in her lap.

Good timing, Jeffers.

The big man crossed the room in three long strides. "Don't worry. I dug out the emergency phone list Missus Pinkwater provided and got a hold of your husband. He's on his way."

"Oh, G.o.d!" She locked eyes with Bonnie.

The look demanded an unspoken promise of kept secrets. Bonnie nodded.

Wendy's hand clutching the bag relaxed. She offered the other one to Jeffers, who helped her up. "Thank you for your consideration. If you don't mind, I need a cigarette before my husband arrives." She smiled thinly. "He doesn't approve."

"You want company?" Bonnie asked.

Wendy shook her head. "No. I'm just going out to my car."

At the secretary's desk, she collected her sweater and a beaded handbag. She and Edmund danced around one another, he trying to enter the office.

In frustration, Wendy pushed past the boy and said something Bonnie couldn't hear.

Edmund watched Wendy Newlin walk down the long hall to the stairs. "Stephanie and Ali are gone. Steph's mom was in town, and she took Ali too. My folks won't answer. I'll just ride back with you, if that's okay. My car's still at the school anyway."

Bonnie wanted to follow Wendy, but Edmund blocked her path. "You want to call again?"

"Nah. Is it a problem me hanging here with you?"

Yeah, it's a problem. It was nine-o-clock. The police and an abusive husband were on the way. A thirteen- year old child, who'd been entrusted into her care, might just be in the hands of a maniac. She had no desire to have one more person depending on her. It was nine-o-clock. The police and an abusive husband were on the way. A thirteen- year old child, who'd been entrusted into her care, might just be in the hands of a maniac. She had no desire to have one more person depending on her.

"Try to stay out of the way."

"Can do."

She pushed past the boy. "I'm going to check on Missus Newlin."

The hall was empty. She took the stairs two at a time, ran across the foyer and burst through the double doors to the parking lot. A silver SUV sped south down Peterson Avenue. In the driver's seat hunched Wendy Newlin, a cigarette glowing in her mouth.

What's with this family and running away?

"Where's she going?" a voice at her elbow asked.

Bonnie yelped.

Edmund Sheridan stood so close he might as well have been in her pocket.

"Good G.o.d, Edmund! You liked to give me a heart attack." She moved out onto the concrete steps and watched Wendy's SUV drive out of sight.

Edmund followed her. "Sorry, but wasn't that Missus Newlin?"

"I believe so."

"What's up with-Hey, somebody stuck something under the van's wipers."

Bonnie squinted trying to see with her fifty-three year old eyes what Edmund had seen with his younger ones. Before she could comment, the boy took off running-long easy strides that carried him across the parking lot.

At the van, he yelled, "It's a note."

He pulled the paper free. "From Missus Newlin. Addressed to you. It's an apology."

"Bring it here."

Edmund took his time recrossing the lot. He seemed to enjoy her impatience.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper from his hand.

'Mrs. Pinkwater. I know you'll think me the worst mother in the world, but I couldn't face my husband. You have no idea what he can be like. Hopefully, he'll be calmed down by the time he gets back home. Wendy.'

This is dysfunction on a professional level.

Edmund wore a bemused expression. "Crazy, huh? That Mister Newlin must be one mean dude."

Bonnie nodded absently. At parent-teacher meetings last fall, Colonel Ralph Newlin had come alone and in his Air Force Blues. He'd been brusque but not impolite. He seemed genuinely concerned his son do well at a new school, had explained East Plains was the fourth school Peyton had attended in the past seven years.

He didn't come across as abusive.

What did you expect, Bonnie? A sign on his forehead saying "wife-beater"? A chill on the evening breeze had about convinced her to go back into the school when an unmarked car, with its cherry-top flashing, turned onto Peterson road.

"It's the cops," Edmund said.

The young man had always enjoyed a firm grasp on the obvious.

"Go tell Princ.i.p.al Jeffers."

A battered lime-green El Camino pulled up to the steps where she stood. Its lights went off. A solidly built six-foot man in a rumpled suit struggled from the car. With a hand shielding his eyes from the school flood lights, Sergeant Franklin Valsecci squinted up at Bonnie with pale blue eyes.

"You just can't stay out of trouble. Can you Missus P?" He raked his fingers through thinning auburn hair, presented her with a grin, and limped up the concrete steps to the school.